He released her with a grin and Viola went to gather her clothes.
“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Lowell,” Officer Ericson said when she and Henry arrived in the library.
“No need,” Viola told him sincerely. “My husband and I are both anxious for any information you can provide. You did the right thing, coming here. Would you care for some tea or another refreshment?”
“No thank you. I do not wish to stay longer than necessary.” He lowered himself back down to the armchair he’d risen from when she’d arrived. “Regarding Miss Olivia Jones. Both her parents confirmed that the man she was seeing was indeed the Duke of Tremaine, though he would have been the Marquess of Bremferrol back then.”
“How can they be sure?” Henry asked.
“Because their daughter confided in them,” Ericson said. “Apparently, Miss Jones’s father was an accountant. He oversaw the current Duke of Tremaine’s taxes for a brief period before he went abroad and made sure no monies were owed. He also assisted with keeping his accounts since, as I understand it, he does not have the same financial acumen his father did.”
“So Robert met Miss Jones through her father,” Viola said, relating all too well to the story Ericson was telling.
“She was the only one at home one day when Tremaine came to call. She invited him in, they started talking, flirtation most likely occurred and . . . well . . .” Ericson scratched the back of his head. “At some point or other, Tremaine got Miss Jones with child and—”
“Good God!” Viola’s hand had come up to cover her mouth in dismay. “All of this while he was engaged to another?”
Ericson cleared his throat. “Based on the timeline I have been able to piece together, it would seem that he had his affair with Miss Jones first and that she got in the way.”
“He considered her an inconvenience,” Henry bit out.
“According to Mrs. Jones, her daughter told her she meant to confront Tremaine. She wanted him to acknowledge the child once it was born and provide for it. Her mother warned her against doing so but Miss Jones was resolute.”
“Do you know why she and Tremaine went into St. Giles?” Viola asked. It wasn’t at all the sort of place where she believed any young woman would go without a really good reason.
“I have no idea,” Ericson said, “but she was found near St. Giles-in-the-Fields.”
Henry frowned. “The church?”
“All I know is that she told her mother that Tremaine had to take responsibility for his actions and that his title should not matter when it came to doing the right thing. Mrs. Jones believes her daughter meant to persuade him to marry her.”
“Not an easy feat unless she planned to blackmail him,” Henry said, while Viola just stood there still trying to come to terms with what Robert had done.
This could have been her after all. If he hadn’t gotten betrothed immediately after their tryst, if she’d gotten pregnant, she might have suggested they marry. It would have been her dream at the time, a dangerous one that might have gotten her killed.
“It is possible,” Ericson said, “but there is no evidence to suggest it besides the fact that the Joneses never saw their daughter alive again.”
“They never confronted Tremaine about it?” Henry asked.
Ericson snorted. “What do you think?”
Viola flexed her fingers, allowing the movement to bring her back to her senses. “If we bring this before a judge, how good do you suppose our chances are of winning?”
“Slim to none,” Ericson said. He looked at them both in turn. “I’m sorry, but there’s no solid proof of Tremaine’s guilt. Add to that the fact that he’s a duke, and you’re setting yourself up for failure by pursing this any further.”
It wasn’t what Viola had hoped to hear, but she had to accept the truth of the situation. Olivia Jones would not be avenged, her killer never brought to justice. There simply wasn’t enough to go on.
“At least we tried,” Henry said after Ericson was gone. He crossed the floor to where she still stood and pulled her into his arms. “I know you were hoping for justice, Viola.”
“It isn’t fair,” she complained against his chest. Robert had taken at least two lives, possibly three, and it seemed he would get away with it. “What if he kills again?”
Henry leaned back and met her gaze. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have cause to.” Dipping his head, he kissed her softly, slowly, with the sort of tenderness that made her focus on him alone. His hands pressed firmly against her back, imparting warmth and strength.
The day of the trial came more quickly than Viola would have liked. She shivered as she stepped outside with Henry and climbed into the carriage that would take them to the courthouse. Gray clouds the color of her eyes covered the sky. A light drizzle dampened the air. Since their wedding, they’d met with Steadford each day to discuss the case. During one such meeting, Henry had suggested that he could settle Viola’s debt now that they were married.
“I cannot ask that of you,” Viola had told him. “It’s too much.”
“There’s no such thing as too much when it comes to protecting you,” Henry had assured her. He’d looked her straight in the eye then and said, “I have the necessary funds, Viola. If you allow me, I might be able to make this entire case against you go away.”
She’d eventually agreed because she’d sensed how important it was for Henry to protect her to the best of his abilities. So Steadford had taken the deal to Hayes, who’d passed it on to his client. But Robert had refused it. He only wanted the hospital and the rejuvenation center, since losing these was more likely to hurt Viola than a dent in Henry’s coffers.
“We will get through this,” Henry assured her as the carriage rolled toward the courthouse. “No matter what happens, we still have each other.”
There was strength to be found in those words and in the kiss that followed. It helped expel some of the anxiety Viola harbored, allowing her to hold her head up high when they arrived at their destination and she was forced to face the waiting journalists.
“Is your second marriage as beneficial to you as your last?” one man asked as he fell into step beside her.
Henry wrapped his arm around Viola’s shoulders and told the impertinent fellow to go to the devil.
“What do you stand to gain, Mrs. Lowell?” He shouted the question after them as they disappeared into the courthouse, where Viola was pleased to find the familiar faces of Henry’s parents and grandparents, along with Huntley, Coventry, Amelia and Gabriella, waiting. All had come to offer their support and Viola quickly thanked them all for doing so. Mr. Steadford was there too, dressed in a long black gown and with a white powdered wig on top of his head.
“All the character witnesses I have invited to testify in your favor are here.” He allowed a rare smile. “That in itself should suggest to the judge that you are not the woman Tremaine believes you to be.”
“But will that be enough?” They’d been over this several times already in the last few days, and no matter how she tried to look at it, Viola could not find the assurance she needed. Especially since the nature of the dispute dismissed the need for a jury. Instead, they would have a bench trial in which the judge would make the final ruling.
“You know the answer to that,” Mr. Steadford told her. “All I can promise is that I will do my best.”
Viola could only hope that this would be enough. She accepted Henry’s escort, and together they followed Mr. Steadford into the courtroom. Robert was already there, his expression hard and unsympathetic as he watched Viola and Henry take a seat on the opposite side of the room. Their friends and family sat down behind them while Mr. Steadford and Mr. Hayes claimed chairs facing the bench where Judge Atkins would eventually sit.
It felt like an eternity before he arrived, to the intonation of “All rise!” Those present shuffled to their feet while he strolled toward his designated spot as if he had all the time in the world. The wig he wore rippled o
ver his shoulders, affording him with a rounded look that failed to flatter the stout build of his body. Viola much preferred the shorter ones worn by Steadford and Hayes.
Judge Atkins acknowledged the room with a nod before taking his seat. The rest of the room sat as well. Silence settled into the building’s foundations. “This is not a criminal case,” the judge began. “Nobody is on trial here today, though the basis for the Duke of Tremaine’s contestation of his father’s will can be found in his certainty that Mrs. Viola Lowell took advantage of an ailing man. Her character has been called into question, her motives and her right to the moneys she inherited from her former husband, equally so. Let us proceed therefore with you, Mr. Hayes, and see if we cannot come to a swift resolution.”
Viola clutched Henry’s hand. “The judge’s intent to resolve this quickly concerns me.”
“It is how things are done,” Henry whispered. “Cases are bundled together and must therefore be processed efficiently. Judge Atkins will most likely hear five others before he returns home later today.”
“But . . .” Viola had been told it would be like this but she’d imagined it to be an exaggeration. “To pass fair judgment in such short time doesn’t seem possible.”
“Just count yourself lucky that you’re not on trial for murder.”
Viola gaped at Henry, who gave her a pointed look before returning his attention to the middle of the courtroom, where Hayes was droning on about Viola’s supposed aspirations, how her father had wanted to build a hospital and she’d done whatever it took to achieve his dream, even going so far as to lure a sick man into marriage.
It wasn’t his dream alone, she wanted to scream. It was Peter’s as well.
But if she fought back with the truth right now she would likely be asked to leave. So she sat in silence while Hayes declared that she’d tried to trap Robert first, and when that plan had failed she’d gone after his father. He spoke of her mother and suggested Viola had been born with a predisposition to whoring in much the same way that a lunatic might inherit his madness from a parent.
“Finally, I wish to present evidence of the former duke’s declining mental health,” Mr. Hayes said. “I have here records from his physician.”
“And the physician himself?” Atkins asked.
“He is currently indisposed.”
“The reason being?”
Mr. Hayes cleared his throat. “It is my understanding that he is currently serving a prison sentence for gross medical misconduct.”
“I will take his records into consideration,” Atkins said.
Viola took a deep breath and tried not to panic. Beside her, Henry sat perfectly still. His jaw was tight, his eyes sharply focused on Atkins and the barristers.
“Mr. Steadford,” Atkins continued. “Have you anything to say?”
“Yes, Judge.” Steadford stood, tall and steady, the only hope Viola had of winning. “Since we are deliberating as to whether or not Mrs. Lowell possessed the cunning and gall to do as Tremaine suggests and that her husband was not in his right state of mind when he willed her his fortune, I recommend an equally blunt assessment of the duke himself.”
Murmurs shifted the air inside the courtroom. Robert glared at Viola with acute hatred in his eyes. She did her best to ignore him, to focus on Henry’s hand holding hers and on what Steadford meant to say next.
“To what end, Mr. Steadford?” Atkins asked.
“To suggest to you, Judge, that this case is nothing more than a spiteful vendetta orchestrated by Tremaine for the sole purpose of hurting Mrs. Lowell.” Steadford paused before adding, “There are people here today who will tell you that he is the sort of man prone to beating a woman with whom he finds pleasure.”
“Objection, Judge,” Hayes shouted, but Atkins dismissed him with a wave of his hand, allowing Steadford to continue.
“I propose that Tremaine’s jealousy, his inability to accept that his father cared more for Mrs. Lowell than for his own son, has prompted him to do what has never been done before,” Steadford said while ignoring Hayes completely. He raised his voice while adding, “His greed and his hatred of Mrs. Lowell have fueled his attempt to ruin her reputation entirely, to take from her that which she has created—a hospital providing free treatment to needy families. Under Mrs. Lowell’s management, St. Agatha’s has become a medical institution from which much of London’s population benefits. It has a higher survival rate than any other hospital in the land.”
“That may well be, Mr. Steadford, but you are not here to dispute true ownership of St. Agatha’s Hospital, but to determine whether or not the Fifth Duke of Tremaine’s will ought to be dismissed on grounds of coercion.”
“And I put it to you, Judge, that if it is, then Mrs. Lowell shall be forced to pay compensation. As you may be aware, Judge, Mr. Lowell has already offered to settle his wife’s debt out of court, but the Duke of Tremaine has declined. Indeed, he is specifically asking for the hospital and her ownership in the rejuvenation center she recently opened.” Mr. Steadford glanced at Viola for a second before addressing Atkins again. “Do you honestly believe either business would be well served under someone else’s direction?”
Atkins frowned. “I see the point you are trying to make.”
“Then let me remind you, Judge, that you have the power to deny the Duke of Tremaine’s request. You can insist that he take the money Mr. Lowell is willing to give him instead, should Mrs. Lowell lose.”
“Mr. Steadford,” Atkins ground out, “I will consider your proposal if it becomes necessary for me to do so. In the meantime I think the best way forward would be for me to examine the evidence put before me. Can you prove to me that His Grace, the Fifth Duke of Tremaine had all his wits about him at the end of his life? Can you offer any compelling evidence to suggest that Mrs. Lowell did not persuade him into changing his will at the final hour so she could profit?”
Viola cringed and glanced around the room. It was full of people who’d come to see this debacle play out, many of whom were now watching her with critical eyes.
“I have witnesses,” Steadford said. “Servants in the duke’s employ who will testify to Mrs. Lowell’s kindness. They will tell you that Mrs. Lowell genuinely cared for the duke and that she nursed him herself toward the end. They will also inform you that she and the Sixth Duke of Tremaine appeared to be friends until he married and left the country.”
“Supposition has no relevance here,” Atkins said. “As we all know, appearances can be misleading, which is why I insist on fact. Have you any, Mr. Steadford?”
The barrister called his first witness, Peter’s valet, Mr. Weston. He was followed by Findlay and later by Mrs. Haroldson, the housekeeper. All attested to Viola’s impeccable character and her loyalty toward Peter as he lay dying.
“Well, of course she sat at his bedside,” Mr. Hayes said when Atkins allowed him to speak again. “She stood to earn twenty-three thousand pounds from doing so! People have been known to do a great deal more for less than that.”
“I have to agree,” Atkins said.
Viola’s insides twisted and pulled. A shiver stole across her shoulders and breathing became more difficult than ever before.
“Remember,” Henry whispered close to her ear, “no matter what happens, we have each other. We’ll get through this, Viola. Fear not.”
She closed her eyes and allowed Henry’s words to soothe her.
Three men whom she did not recognize took the stand next. One claimed he’d been at the brothel when Tremaine had returned to exact his revenge on the demimondaine he’d quarreled with all those years ago. The other two had apparently seen Tremaine fly into fits of fury during his time at Cambridge when his grades failed to meet his expectations. According to one witness, he’d even thrown a book at one of his professors.
Once again, Hayes protested. “This is nothing but slander,” he shouted, and unfortunately this time, the judge agreed.
“I find the notes made by Tremaine’s physicia
n more telling than any other evidence brought before me,” Atkins said. “Whether or not Mrs. Lowell was fond of the duke has no bearing on the fact that he altered his will at a time when his mind was in rapid decline. As noted, he had started forgetting names, roused the household in the middle of the night for a game of charades, came down for breakfast one morning in only his nightshirt . . . These are not the actions of a rational man, and I must therefore conclude that bestowing his entire fortune on Mrs. Lowell wasn’t either.”
Viola squeezed her eyes shut. If only she could fill her ears with cotton as well so she did not have to hear what the judge said next.
“By order of this court, the Fifth Duke of Tremaine’s will shall revert back to the previous version. If this names the Sixth Duke of Tremaine as his father’s sole heir, then Mrs. Lowell shall pay compensation by signing over St. Agatha’s hospital and her shares in the rejuvenation center to the Duke of Tremaine. That is all. I rest this case.”
A bang punctuated Atkins’s final word, causing Viola to flinch. The gavel had fallen and with it, everything she’d worked so hard to accomplish was gone. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see Robert looking her way. He smirked and offered a bow before striding out of the room with Hayes by his side.
“Did that really just happen?” Viola asked.
“I’m so sorry,” Henry told her. “Atkins is clearly on Robert’s side or he would have forced him to accept a payment from me on your behalf.”
She said nothing in response as he helped her rise. Words failed her. It was like being held forcibly underwater, unable to think as her body resigned itself to drowning. When Henry’s family took their leave along with the Huntleys and Coventrys, she could only nod her thanks and watch them walk away. Robert had won and she had lost. Dear God. He’d taken what she’d feared losing the most—St. Agatha’s.
“Are you having regrets?”
Viola blinked. “What?” She was in the carriage with Henry but could not recall climbing in or taking off. She glanced out the window and recognized a building. They must have been driving for at least five minutes.
The Infamous Duchess Page 29
